SECOND PART
CHAPTER 17: From Cape Horn to the Amazon
(continued)
For two days we visited these deep and deserted waters by means
of our slanting fins. The Nautilus would do long, diagonal dives
that took us to every level. But on April 11 it rose suddenly,
and the shore reappeared at the mouth of the Amazon River,
a huge estuary whose outflow is so considerable, it desalts the sea
over an area of several leagues.
We cut the Equator. Twenty miles to the west lay Guiana, French
territory where we could easily have taken refuge.
But the wind was blowing a strong gust, and the furious
billows would not allow us to face them in a mere skiff.
No doubt Ned Land understood this because he said nothing to me.
For my part, I made no allusion to his escape plans because I didn't
want to push him into an attempt that was certain to misfire.
I was readily compensated for this delay by fascinating research.
During those two days of April 11-12, the Nautilus didn't leave
the surface of the sea, and its trawl brought up a simply miraculous
catch of zoophytes, fish, and reptiles.
Some zoophytes were dredged up by the chain of our trawl. Most were
lovely sea anemone belonging to the family Actinidia, including among
other species, the Phyctalis protexta, native to this part of the ocean:
a small cylindrical trunk adorned with vertical lines, mottled with
red spots, and crowned by a wondrous blossoming of tentacles.
As for mollusks, they consisted of exhibits I had already observed:
turret snails, olive shells of the "tent olive" species with neatly
intersecting lines and russet spots standing out sharply against
a flesh-colored background, fanciful spider conchs that looked
like petrified scorpions, transparent glass snails, argonauts,
some highly edible cuttlefish, and certain species of squid
that the naturalists of antiquity classified with the flying fish,
which are used chiefly as bait for catching cod.
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